Being Bad Feels Pretty Good
by TWbasketcase
Summary: [OneShot from Claire's POV] It feels pretty damn good! ClaireJohn. And from me! Who would have thought?


**Title**: Being Bad Feels Pretty Good  
**Author**: TWBasketcase  
**Rated**: T for sexuality.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Breakfast Club; I only happily obsess over them.  
**Summary**: One-Shot. Claire thinks about the wild side of life, and what exactly excites her about being bad.  
**A/N**: Okay, for anyone who is familiar with my work I have a bunch of one-shots; however, I do not have a Claire one-shot. If you are also very familiar with my work, you will also know that I do not have very much Claire/Bender stuff out there. So yes (brace yourselves here) yours truly is actually writing – not only – a Claire centric fic, but a Claire/Bender fic. I have been telling people I will have this out for awhile now, I have only now gotten off my ass and posted it. So I hope you enjoy and feel free to chuck things at me if you don't like it :)

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**Being Bad Feels Pretty Good**

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It was always the laughter and insanity in those eyes that drew me in.

It's funny, because it was always the simple girly things that did appeal to me. I loved pink, purple, and yellow. Cashmere and silk were always my favorite fabrics. I had pictures of horses and kittens on my wall. I mean, I still wear a _Bambi_ t-shirt to bed. To most people, I would probably be considered as yuppie and girly as they come.

And I was…until I met him.

I first met him in Saturday detention. I was absolutely repulsed at the fact that I had to sit inside of a bacteria filled library all day – with who I thought at the time were total geeks and freaks. He walked through the door like he was king shit, like he had it all figured out. I hadn't seen a cockier smirk since the captain of the basketball team. Only figures he sticks his eyes on me immediately. Sat behind me and did all sorts of silly perverted things to get my attention.

_You couldn't ignore me if you tried._

No, I couldn't. Not when I knew he was sitting right behind me. Not when I knew it was me that he was referring to when he said he wanted to impregnate the prom queen. All sorts of dirty thoughts filled my mind just then. The thought of him just jumping over the table – stamping his boots on the cheap wood of the table top – hot breath against my ear telling me how bad I was. I could imagine him ripping off that cheap flannel shirt and whipping it behind his shoulder, taking me by the hands and laying me down on the table. I hadn't felt such naughty things since the first time I laid eyes on Patrick Swayze.

I remember distinctly how hot I felt my ears burn. He knew how to get under my skin right away. He even had the audacity to get under my desk and stick his face under my skirt. Now, I had never had that sort of experience with a boy before, and being that it was in front of a group of people I felt rather embarrassed…but at the same time I also couldn't help but feel pretty warm down there.

Up until that point I had never had the experience of that sort of sexuality, I had never tried drugs, nor had I ever even conversed with a boy that rode a skateboard, let alone him. When he popped the match on his teeth I felt his eyes on me. He watched my lips as I sucked back the joint. I could see him licking his own lips; his eyes burned into me as if he had felt accomplished about something. Almost as if he were satisfied that he were leading me on.

He called me a tease. I may wear skirts and I may never leave the house without my make up done up…but I had never met a bigger tease than him. He tried so hard to get me flustered…to make me jealous with his wallet pictures…to take a stab at my – lack of – sex life. He did whatever he could to make me very aware of his every movement and action.

I could tell that he lead quite a different life than I had. He seemed so experienced in, well, everything. I felt so naïve and immature compared to him. My parents still gave me an allowance, I had never had a job, and my father still kissed me good night and tucked me in. He knew all about drugs, sex, and violence. It was as if he lived in a world I didn't even know existed. I think that it drove him crazy how untainted I was.

After sitting in a room with him for nine hours, it started to drive me a little crazy too.

So when he got up to go to his locker, I followed him, no questions asked.

When he rose from his seat to go roll a joint, I followed him, curiosity getting the better of me.

I felt so embarrassed when we talked about my love for nail polish, my rich father, and my unlimited access to a BMW. I felt so undeserving after getting a taste of the story of his life. It had suddenly dawned on me that all the 'little' people in my school – the ones my friends and I walked all over – they actually _hated_ me. What hurt me the most was I knew that _he_ probably hated me…and that he had every right to.

My whole life I had been spoiled. I got whatever I wanted, no matter what extent it went to. It was ridiculous what kind of things I owned as a child. I probably had up to 100 Barbies, no word of a lie. I didn't even play with them all; I just wanted to have them. When I stop and think about that, I wonder how many toys he got to play with as a kid. He said that his dad only bought him cigarettes for Christmas. A carton of cigarettes costs – probably – around ten to fifteen dollars, and that is for something that will potentially kill him. I could only imagine what he got for Christmas as a kid. I got teddy bears bigger than me, tea sets, Barbie mansions, and doll houses. _He_ probably only got a candy bar or something.

I know that it isn't something that I _should_ feel bad about; I _should_ feel fortunate. In a way, I did feel very lucky to have been brought up that way. On the other hand, I think that I did feel a bit held back. I didn't get to see the world for what it really is, which never _really_ let me enjoy the things that I have.

When the opportunity arose for me to rebel, I did it. He intrigued me so much, that I couldn't _not_ go with him. The way his eyes lit up when he knew trouble was close, the way he smiled with only half of his mouth when he knew I was nervous…it drew me in. I always wondered what playing with fire felt like…but I always resisted the temptation.

I couldn't resist him.

When detention had let out, I just had to taste him one more time. What I think was most exciting about it was the fact that my dad was watching the whole thing. He yelled at me so much on the way home that I actually smiled...and laughed. I knew that it was wrong to disobey him…but it felt so good to get back at him.

_Wouldn't I be outstanding in that capacity?_

I kept on seeing him. I kept on getting caught. I caused so many screaming matches at home about him I could have sworn my ears were ready to bleed. My parents were so scared that I was going to join a biker gang or get pregnant it was ridiculous. The strange thing was that they stopped fighting _over_ me, and started fighting _with_ me. I wasn't sure exactly how that made me feel.

Excited maybe?

Last week he convinced me to let him into the girl's bathroom with me. Right in the middle of the school day. I was so nervous, but as soon as he pushed me into that stall, my fears were replaced with excitement. I felt his lips on mine and he was immediately forgiven. Someone had even walked into the bathroom while we were in there; he only placed his hand over my mouth and kissed the side of my head as he stepped up onto the toilet. The flames dancing in his eyes were enough to make me melt for him all over again.

He sure knew how to show a girl a good time.

Through it all, I could tell that even through his tough guy mask that he cared. He always chose me to be his partner in crime, and was always dead set on showing me a good time. He did get easily flustered with me, and absolutely loved to tease me; he cared though.

It was always that laughter and insanity that told me so.

Strange as it sounds, a guy as hardened as him can say a lot with just one look. He was no exception. And just as exciting for me as it was to read those eyes, it was infectious. When he laughed I wanted to laugh…and when he got into trouble I felt just as exhilarated.

_Being bad feels pretty good, huh?_

Yeah it felt good alright. When I had the glowing eyes and sexy body spilling the trouble for me, it made it all the more fun.

_**The End**_

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**A/N**: Gay and cheesy, I know. Go ahead and leave a review making fun of me, lol. I think I may be going soft (checks temperature)…maybe I'm just sick. Yeah, I'm sick. Thanks for reading.


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